Part Three Written Request #3
No matter which direction Scott looked, Joe never took his eyes off him. There wasn’t going to be anything in the rest of the room that he hadn’t seen a hundred times before. Scott was the first man who’d surprised him in a hell of a long time.
“You’re n-not wearing…anything?” Scott observed when the silence seemed to get too much for him.
“No, I’m not,” Joe agreed.
He’d have guessed that about two thirds of the guys there would be wearing a cock ring or butt plug.
And even if they weren’t, almost all of them would be either hardening, or at full mast by now.
He didn’t bother to look away from Scott to check out the other men’s erections.
They held no interest for him that night.
Not even the sweetest arse could have made his attention stray from Scott’s blushing face.
One thing was obvious. What he should have given Scott to wear wasn’t a cock ring, it was a collar. A strip of black leather would look damn good around his neck, marking him out as Joe’s own personal property.
“Go up to the bar and fetch two glasses of Coke,” Joe said, taking a fiver out of his sock and handing it to him.
“Coke?”
Joe nodded. “Coke.”
Scott didn’t say anything else. He stood up and made his way across the room.
He might have been trying to hide his reluctance, but he failed spectacularly.
Joe watched Scott walk up to the bar. His erection bounced slightly with each step.
His buttocks clenched as his nerves increased with every foot he moved away from Joe’s side.
Any marks that the flogger had left on his skin last time they met up, had already faded away leaving a gorgeously-blank canvass.
With his attention never straying from Scott, Joe pulled one booted foot up to rest on the bench seat alongside him. Resting one elbow on his knee, he dropped his head back against the wall behind the cushioned seat.
A guy at the bar stepped up close to Scott. The place wasn’t overly crowded. There was no need for any man to stand that near Scott. Joe tensed. He narrowed his gaze as he lifted his head away from the wall.
Words were exchanged. They spoke far too quietly for Joe to hear them, but whatever was said, it caused the man standing alongside Scott to look over his shoulder and toward their table.
Joe didn’t move. He didn’t even raise an eyebrow at the guy. But, he didn’t rush to clear the frown from his forehead either.
All at once, there were several feet of empty space between Scott and the other guy.
Joe relaxed, once more satisfied with the state of the world.
Within moments, Scott returned with their drinks.
He paused when he saw Joe’s foot on the seat, but chose to sit down on the edge of the cushion in front of Joe’s boot, rather than move further down the bench and put any extra distance between them.
Scott kept his eyes firmly on the table as he set down their glasses and handed Joe the change.
“You’re allowed to look at me, too,” Joe pointed out. “That was what you wanted permission to do, wasn’t it?”
Scott nibbled at his bottom lip. “Are you m-mad at me?”
Joe didn’t think he was inclined to be easily taken aback, but he found himself blinking at Scott as if he were the naive little novice. “This isn’t me mad,” he finally said.
“Okay.” That was it. Scott fell silent, once again completely fascinated by the table.
“If I was mad, I’d tell you straight out that I was pissed off. And I’d tell you exactly what you’d done that wound me up.” Joe studied Scott’s reaction very carefully.
Scott smiled slightly, as if being told that was something he needed to be grateful for. Then, he looked away, back to the oh-so-interesting table top.
Screw being patient—patience had never been Joe’s strong point. Tucking a knuckle under Scott’s chin, Joe made him face him properly. “I told you to ask for something. Why would I be mad at you for doing what you were told?”
Scott shrugged. He reached for his glass and took up a white knuckled grip around it. “Maybe you h-hoped I’d ask for s-s-something else?”
“I don’t do mind games,” Joe corrected. “If I think there’s a chance you’ll make a choice I don’t like, I won’t offer you the chance to make any decisions at all.”
At least that coaxed a smile out of Scott. “I b-believe you.”
“Good.” Joe took a swig of his Coke and slouched a little more comfortably in his seat.
His erection tilted back toward his stomach, a bead of pre-cum gathering on the tip.
Joe ignored it. It was bloody hard to lose himself in the joy of being surrounded by naked, horny men when Scott stubbornly refused to act like the kind of sub he was so used to playing with.
Scott was an anomaly. He couldn’t just be whipped, screwed and tossed aside; he had to be investigated. Joe mentally ran through everything he knew about Scott. Damn near nothing.
“What do you do when you’re not writing letters inviting me to do kinky things with you?” Joe asked.
Scott looked up for a moment before quickly turning his attention back to his glass. Apparently, the dark bubbly liquid rivalled the sticky table top in terms of interest. “D-do?”
“Have you got a job?” Joe prompted.
Still looking ill at ease, Scott seemed to consider the question very carefully. “Just a b-boring office j-job,” he finally said. “I do the computer admin at a b-builder’s merchants. Fill in the paperwork, make out the invoices, s-stuff like that. Why?”
Joe was pretty sure he could have told Scott that he intended to tie him up in the middle of the room, blindfold him, and whip every bit of skin off his back, and Scott would have been more at ease with it.
You’re for sex, not for conversations.
It wasn’t the first time Joe had sensed that thought in someone’s head when he was playing with them.
It was, however, the first time the idea pissed him off rather than suited him right down to his well-polished black boots.
Joe tossed back another mouthful of Coke in an effort to wash away the bitterness on the back of his tongue.
“It doesn’t pay g-g-great, but I p-p-pick up other work when I can,” Scott went on. “Cut grass. W-walk dogs. D-deliver j-j-junk mail.” His words were coming out faster now, and his stutter was getting more pronounced.
Joe took hold of Scott’s wrist, the one attached to the hand holding his Coke, and guided it up toward his lips.
Words stopped. Scott drank steadily until Joe allowed him to lower his glass.
Relaxing back once more, Joe mentally corrected his impression of Scott’s thoughts.
Sex makes me less nervous than talking to you.
It wasn’t a thought he’d ever suspected any of his previous playmates of having, but it suited Scott far better than Joe’s first reading of him. For some reason, the idea suited Joe, too.
“You know, answering my questions is no different to sucking my cock,” he said, very casually.
Even though he’d already swallowed all the Coke he’d taken into his mouth, Scott managed to choke on it.
Joe casually rubbed Scott’s back as Scott leaned over the table and spluttered.
His skin was warm and smooth. Joe’s attention quickly wandered away from making sure Scott kept breathing, to enjoying the texture of Scott’s flesh beneath his palm.
Scott wasn’t a muscle man, but Joe had played with guys with huge muscles before—they inevitably turned out to be less fun than Joe had expected them to be.
Scott glanced over his shoulder at him. Their eyes barely had a chance to meet before he dropped his gaze.
Joe’s cock hardened a little more, showing off for Scott as Scott’s eyes settled on his crotch. Joe could feel the bead of pre-cum forming on the tip of his cock growing fuller and heavier each time another erotic possibility nudged at his mind.
“Taste it,” Joe ordered.
Scott glanced up at him. He blinked.
“Use your fingers, swipe up my cum, and taste it,” Joe said again. He took another sip of his Coke.
Carefully setting his glass down, Scott turned toward Joe. A blush rushed to his cheeks as he tentatively ran a finger over the tip of Joe’s erection.
Joe watched the digit disappear between Scott’s lips. “If I order you to answer a question, that’s no different,” he explained. “An order is an order. You obey me, and everything will be fine. Understand?”
Scott nodded.
“Good.” Joe placed his glass on the table. “You said in your note that you wanted to see me naked.”
Scott nodded.
“Is that all you want to do—to look at me?” Joe prompted.
Scott shook his head.
“What else?”
“Touch.” The word was so softly spoken, even sitting as close together as they were, it was difficult for Joe to make it out.
Scott looked up. The desperation in his eyes was far louder than his whispered answer—it screamed both need and desire to Joe at the top of its voice.
“Go ahead.”
Scott blinked.
Joe didn’t say anything else. He just sat and waited to see what Scott would do with the permission he’d just granted him. With any other submissive, Joe probably wouldn’t have bothered, but really, who could have realised that an unpredictable sub would be so hot?
Scott clenched and unclenched his fists several times before he finally reached out. His fingers came to rest on Joe’s knee, where he’d bent his leg up to rest his boot on the bench.
Joe watched Scott as he ran his hand slowly up his thigh, brushing through the wiry dark hairs that decorated his skin.
He tensed in expectation, but Scott didn’t head straight for his cock.
He moved his hand over Joe’s abs instead.
Palm flat against Joe’s stomach, he spread his fingers as wide apart as he could, as if trying to touch as much of him as possible.